


Coincidence

by Ms_Tassimo



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Barista Castiel, Fluff, M/M, Musician Dean, No Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-23
Updated: 2016-03-23
Packaged: 2018-05-28 14:55:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6333469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ms_Tassimo/pseuds/Ms_Tassimo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The hot busker on the way to Castiel's work makes his morning commute a little brighter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coincidence

Castiel doesn’t really notice the busker for a week or so. He had been too busy trying to beat the morning rush before work to notice anything.

So when he inexplicably finds himself running early, he hears it; the soft strumming of a guitar and the deep voice of someone singing. He pauses to look around, brows furrow as he tries to determine the source of the music.

Buskers aren’t anything new in this city; Castiel doesn’t pay attention to them either. Call it snobbery, but he’s never found the thought of begging for money on the street corner to be that appealing. But this particular singer is differing. For one, he’s not crooning some love song or some upbeat country music that’s so old, Castiel doesn’t even know who originally sung it.

Sweet Child O’ Mine is played acoustically, a gentle contrast to the roar of cars gunning for the early commute to work. Cas’ eyes swivel in every direction, desperately trying to find the owner of the guitar. 

This is…not your typical busker; he’s neither a teenager nor a middle age man. Instead, he’s mid-twenties, with an angular jaw sprinkled with stubble, his tan skin contrasting with the bright green of his eyes. Cas finds himself staring, in the middle of the sidewalk, at the guy’s dirty blonde hair, and the way his fingers skilfully work the strings of the guitar.

He walks towards the busker, with no idea as to why he’s drawn to the voice. Hell, he probably looks like the biggest creeper ever but he doesn’t care. Cas rummages in his pocket for change, managing to pull out a few quarters and a crumpled dollar note. A pitiful contribution but a contribution all the same. 

He drops the money into the open guitar case by the busker’s feet, avoiding his gaze. He hears a quiet chuckle then, causing him to glance at the busker as he straightens up. 

He winks at Castiel, the vivacity of his singing suddenly picking up, as though he’s re-energised by the recognition of his music. Cas feels his cheeks flood with color, turning on his heel and walking towards his work as quickly as he possibly can. When he gets there, his heart is hammering and his face is so red that Charlie asks him if he’s okay.

To be honest, Castiel doesn’t know if he is.

***

Cas is adamant that his job as a barista is not a forever job. Well, that’s what he tells his mother when she calls to ask him how he’s doing. However, his job makes allowances for his creative streak – coffee art, decorative touches – and Castiel loves it. And they people are a good laugh too.

What he means to say is that until he can afford the bills that come with being at Art school, this is where he’s at. And to be fair, the mould that grows in the corner of his small apartment is quite endearing in its own little way.

But for the rest of his shift, he’s making mistakes. His mind keeps floating to the handsome busker that he’s been ignoring for the last week or so. The bright eyed smile, the cheeky chuckle when Castiel got close enough. What if the busker knew-

Castiel doesn’t let that thought fly any longer. Perhaps it was just testament to how long it’s been since he’s had sex – that he’s imagining lust where there is nothing.   
He’s always been a dreamer, has Cas. Even at school, his teachers always commented on his daydreaming. About the future, about the present, and how he could have changed the past. In all honesty, sometimes Cas thinks that the life in his head is so much better than the one he’s currently occupying. 

And so it becomes his morning ritual; walk to work early so he can put money in the guitar case – he always makes sure he’s got at least five dollars “coincidentally” sitting in his back pocket. And the busker always has a smile for him. And what a smile it is; even his teeth are perfect. Castiel lives for these five seconds of utter bliss where he can pretend that everything in his life is normal, and hot men smile at him, rather than being a goofy Marvel Movies obsessive who dreams of painting rather than having a “proper” job.

Until a morning comes, maybe a month after Castiel first interacts with the busker, on which he’s not there. There is no sound of blissful music playing out over the streets and instead of seeing the man, Castiel faces an empty corner, his heart sinking.

It’s probably not something that normal people get upset about. In fact, Castiel knows it’s not something that normal people get upset about. But Cas isn’t most people. He’s socially awkward from a sheltered childhood, with an imagination that runs a little too furtively for most relationships. 

So he heads to work with a huge black cloud hanging over his head, the glare on his face enough to make everyone he works with giving him a wide berth. Charlie directs him to   
the broken coffee machine in the corner, citing that his face was going to scare away her custom.

Castiel is happy to oblige.

A couple hours later, Castiel thinks nothing of the door jingling as he fights the milk wand into submission. There are curse words flying left, right and centre, despite Charlie hissing at regular intervals that customers can hear him. Right now, Castiel can’t care less about grumpy customers; his heart is irrationally hurting from the loss of the busker.  
Call him stupid, but Castiel had grown accustomed to his new morning routine. This week – like he had said for the last three weeks, at least – he was going to speak to him. Going to ask him if he’d like to get something to eat sometime, or even coffee after work. Anything that would start the cogs going in reality rather than just in Castiel’s head.  
“Cas, I’ve got an order that I need you to make up,” Charlie roars over the sound of whirling machines and rabble from the shop. 

“Charlie, I’m a bit b-”

“Castiel. Make the damn order already.”

Cas glowers at the back of Charlie’s head, making a mental note to tip scalding hot milk on top of her bright red hair before plucking the coffee order from the metal bar and looking down at it. He’s not sure why Charlie even wants him to make it. 

It’s an Americano. Nothing special, nothing interesting, nothing Cas can make remotely exciting. 

He grudgingly clatters a little bit louder than he needs to, making it apparent to everyone working that he’s in a bad mood and he’s perfectly happy to make everyone know about it.

When he’s done, he practically slams the cup down on the counter, reading the name off of the piece of paper.

“Dean?” 

Castiel squints, looking around. He swears to God, if this guy has left after he’s made this coffee-

“Yeah, that’s me.”

Cas looks to the point where the voice came, and nearly faints. His legs tremble and his heart starts doing that infernal beating thing; it’s the busker. His busker. Dean, apparently. The coincidence makes Castiel thank God to the stars and back.

“Americano,” Castiel manages to bite out.

“Oh, hey, Dean!” he hears Charlie call out. “What a coincidence! I was just thinking about you!” Cas sees Dean frown slightly, tearing his gaze from Cas to cast a bemused look at Charlie, who swings out from behind the coffee machine with a wide smile on her face.

“Charlie, what-” Castiel starts, just as puzzled as the man in front of him.

“Oh yeah, me and Dean go way back,” Charlie remarks flippantly, nudging him with her elbow playfully. “In fact, I told him that I had a very single worker here that he should be wooing.” Castiel’s mouth feels dry. He feels like a fool.

“Didn’t think he’d go to such extremes with the busking and shit but,” she grins up at Dean, “you’ve always been one for big impressions.”

Dean chuckles, bowing his head, and Castiel is relieved to see that he at least looks embarrassed at the lengths he’s gone to. 

Even though Cas is kinda flattered.

“Oh look, a customer,” Charlie trills, skipping back behind the counter. “I’ll let you two get acquainted!” 

Dean and Castiel stand in an awkward silence. Well, as silent as they can be in the middle of the lunchtime rush. Castiel can’t bear to meet Dean’s gaze and he’s got no idea about Dean. Hell, he doesn’t know anything about Dean apart from the fact he’s a great musician.

“You, um,” Castiel says eventually, “you’re really good at, y’know, the whole guitar thing.”

The whole guitar thing. 

Cas inwardly cringes.

“Thanks.” Dean laughs softly, and Castiel reluctantly meets his eyes. He sees the spark behind them, the softness of a boyish charm, and instantly feels relaxed. Dean seems to be as shy as he is; why else would he wait so long to approach Cas?

“How about instead of tossing me a couple of dollars every morning,” Dean says, taking a step closer to Castiel, closing the space between them, “you let me take you on a date with them.”

Castiel’s eyes widen, heart threatening to jump from his chest.

“Yeah,” he replies as casually as he can, a smile twitching at the corner of his lips. “I think I can run to that.”

Dean grins broadly, his eyes on Castiel’s as though he’s the best thing he’s ever seen.

Charlie peeps out from behind the coffee machine, a triumphant expression on her face whilst Sweet Child O’ Mine blares from the café speakers.

A total coincidence, of course.


End file.
